Time is fluid. Somewhen. Photograph. 2009
In My Craft or Sullen Art
In my craft or sullen art
Exercised in the still night
When only the moon rages
And the lovers lie abed
With all their griefs in their arms
I labour by singing light
Not for ambition or bread
Or the strut and trade of charms
On the ivory stages
But for the common wages
Of their most secret heart.
Not for the proud man apart
From the raging moon I write
On these spindrift pages
Nor for the towering dead
With their nightingales and psalms
But for the lovers, their arms
Round the griefs of the ages,
Who pay no praise or wages
Nor heed my craft or art.
Dylan Thomas, 1945
![Desk Crit [The Importance of Sketching II]](https://sketchbloom.files.wordpress.com/2010/06/perspective-web.jpg?resize=200%2C200)
sketchbloom.com 
Great that you should have this poem up. And I love the photo with it. Thanks for that. The date for the poem, though, is 1945. It was written just after the end of WWII – that’s a bomber’s moon haunting the lovers, and there’s a pun on ‘arms’ as well. ‘The griefs of the ages’, as well as their own griefs …
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John-
thank you for your feedback! I found the date on poetryarchive.org, but probably it was referring to the date of publication. The photo is taken on my nightly walk uphill, back from work. Everything is orange, blurred, deserted- as though lit from gaslamp, as though the whole city is under a curfew. Thank you so much for offering insight on the poem, and , of course, for checking in!
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This friend of mine is taking pictures of normal objects that look like letters and then making words out of it…check out his website… http://www.wordsaroundtown.com
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